


Best Laid Plans

by SlowMoRevolution



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, It's very very gay, Smut, Strap-Ons, Yeah this got kind of out of hand please don't look at me like that, smut with a side of feels I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlowMoRevolution/pseuds/SlowMoRevolution
Summary: Lexa wants to surprise Clarke.She really should know better by now.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 81
Kudos: 271





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. So first of all? Thank you so much for dropping in to give this a look. It means everything to me, and I’m incredibly grateful. <3
> 
> Second of all? This thing literally showed up and took hold of me a couple of weeks ago, and I haven't really looked up since. And now here we are. So I really hope you like it, because I haven't slept much lately and I’m very, very tired, but it’ll all be worth it if y’all enjoy it. :)
> 
> And finally? This turned out to be, like, _intensely_ gay. I don't know what else to say except these two just bring it out in me.
> 
> Huge thanks to DreamsAreMyWords for inadvertently inspiring this idea and then encouraging me while I tried to make it happen -- you the best. <3 And the ever-patient Bellatores for helping me edit all this bleary-eyed rambling and cheering me on. You are a SAINT. <3
> 
> I hope all of you are staying safe and hanging on with all the chaos in the world, and hoping maybe this can help push it back for a minute. That would make me seriously happy. Much love, everybody.

“No peeking, Clarke.”

“I’m not trying to!”

Lexa can’t help but grin at the indignation in her wife’s voice. It’s not that she’s amused by the idea of provoking Clarke’s notorious temper, oh no. Only a fool would do that deliberately. It’s actually just the _‘how dare you’_ tone itself that Lexa finds so entertaining, because…well, patience has never been one of Clarke’s virtues. Lexa knows that. Clarke _knows_ that Lexa knows that. In fact, Clarke’s impatience is the whole reason Lexa is here right now, standing half-naked in front of their bathroom mirror fiddling with a harness, rather than heading out the door to make their 8pm reservation at Luna’s. 

If Lexa hadn’t slipped up and mentioned the gift she’d planned on surprising Clarke with later _(as in ‘when-we-got-back-from-dinner-and-I-wasn’t-wearing-this-suit’ later)_ — none of this would be happening. But because Clarke is Clarke, and not so great at waiting for surprises, with a tendency to sometimes play dirty when it comes to getting what she wants, like, say for instance — holding Lexa’s car keys hostage until she caved and agreed to show Clarke what she’d bought — here we are.

Not that Lexa’s complaining, mind you. True, it would be easier to do this if she weren’t having to worry about navigating around her dinner outfit. Or at least the upper portion of her dinner outfit, anyway. As it stands, she’s already managed to wrinkle up her shirt beyond redemption. 

She’s not too concerned about it, though. Clarke’s not the type who cares about things like that, first of all. And Luna’s a dear friend — even if Lexa showed up to her fancy high end establishment wearing a Sponge Bob tee and her saggiest, saddest sweats, she thinks Luna would probably still let her through the doors. They’ve known each other since _sixth grade_ , for Christ’s sake. Carried each other through all their tragic pre-teen years, like that stretch in middle school when Luna was in full on headgear braces, and all those godawful home perms Lexa’s mom insisted on subjecting her to back when Lexa was but a wee, defenseless minor who couldn’t legally run away every time her mom dragged out her never-ending stash of curlers and chemicals. Those friendship bonds are cemented _tight._

So no, Luna probably wouldn’t bat an eye about letting her in.

But in the spirit of wanting to at least give the illusion that she might be somewhat of a catch and didn’t completely marry above her station, Lexa would like to look a _little_ nice for her night out with Clarke. However, if she does happen to wind up looking slightly rumpled by the end of it all? She’s hoping _this_ will perhaps help make up for it. 

Lexa glances in the mirror, adjusting the soft leather straps hugging her hips. _Maybe. Possibly._

 _I hope so, anyway._

She’s trying to ignore the flutter of nervous anticipation rippling through her, but no matter what she does, she just can’t seem to completely shake it yet. In truth, she always feels some measure of nerves each time she puts this gear on. She doesn’t beat herself up about it anymore or worry that she’s some sort of lower-tier gay simply because she gets a bit shy about strapping herself into what is…I mean, it’s just kind of an absurd apparatus, honestly. It’s fair to say that, right? 

Lexa turns to the side, staring at the length of smooth purple silicone protruding from her groin. _(She made sure to get it in Clarke’s favorite color.)_

She wraps her hand around the end of it to settle the toy against herself a bit more securely, sucking in a breath when the base of it hits an already slightly swollen spot. If Lexa weren’t such a weak human being with no self control in all matters Clarke, she maybe wouldn’t have let things get so out of hand during their round of lunchtime sex yesterday, given the fact she knew this was on the horizon. But by the power of everything Lexa stands for, she will never say that out loud, because damn. It was worth. It.

She realigns the toy again, to the same effect.

 _Yeah, that certainly feels a lot more…present than our usual ones._ She waits out the pulse of arousal flaring between her thighs, breathing through it. Honestly, if she can’t get the hang of this thing soon, her ability to last more than a handful of minutes later may be in serious question.

Lexa shifts her hips to resettle the toy in a more neutral position, sighing in relief when it doesn’t immediately send another throb spiking through her. When she catches sight of her reflection again, she smirks and rolls her eyes. _You can do this, Woods. You’ve got a hot wife out there who’s counting on you._

Right as she’s tugging one of the last fastenings into place, Lexa catches a faint rustling noise just outside the bathroom door. She pauses what she’s doing and angles her head toward the crack in the door to listen more closely. Her smirk deepens. 

_Not trying to peek, my ass…_

“I can hear you moving around out there, you know.” 

As soon as she starts speaking, Lexa hears a muffled thump and a soft curse on the other side of the door, followed by the unmistakable sound of her wife’s hurried footsteps retreating across the hardwood floor. She has to bite her cheek to keep from laughing.

“I’m just looking for my phone charger!” Clarke huffs, and from the trajectory of her voice, Lexa can tell she’s managed to scramble all the way across the bedroom. _(In commendable time, too.)_

Lexa grins and shakes her head. “Your phone charger, huh?” She makes one final adjustment to the harness, and when she realizes her hands are still a little shaky, she sighs and squeezes them into fists in an effort to halt the slight tremor in them. “You mean the phone charger I could have sworn I just saw you using in the living room, what? Ten minutes ago? That phone charger?”

It’s quiet for a moment, then: “Why are you so freakishly observant about, like, everything?”

Lexa laughs softly. “You married a lawyer, remember? I can’t help it. I’m professionally obligated to be this irritating.” 

“Lexaaaaa…” Clarke whines, but Lexa hears the smile in it. “You’re seriously killing me here. I want to see…” 

“Just one more minute, I swear. I’m almost done.” Lexa unclenches her fists, giving herself a last once over in the mirror.

She’s not sure why she’s so anxious. It’s not as if Clarke’s never seen her in this getup before, for god’s sake. And regardless of Lexa’s minor hang ups about the aesthetics, Clarke has told her again and again how sexy she thinks she looks wearing it. 

But it’s just…it’s been a while. Maybe that’s what’s causing it. Their work schedules have been so hectic lately that sex has been limited to quick encounters only — mostly rushed lunch hour meetups at the apartment where they have just enough time to strip each other out of their work clothes and well, just _fuck._ Plain and simple. There’s been no room for slow or soft this past month. No chance for doing what Lexa has been fantasizing about doing all day, every day for weeks now: spending long, hot hours re-familiarizing herself with every inch of Clarke, getting to taste and touch and tease her for as long as she wants, and watch her come over and over, and…

Lexa’s stomach flips so hard, she has to grip the countertop for a second until it passes. _God._

And this is one of Clarke’s favorite things, she knows that.

It’s one of Lexa’s favorite things, too. Oh, especially when Clarke is riding her, and she’s on her knees, straddling her, and Lexa can see every time she raises up and sinks back down on the strap, and her breasts are just right there in Lexa’s face and she can lean up and…

_Jesus fucking Christ, I need to stop this._

Lexa takes a slow, deep breath, prying her fingertips off the edge of the countertop again. She’s not even going to make it through dinner if she keeps this up.

So, yes. To say she’s looking forward to tonight is like saying water is wet.

Wet.

_Stop it._

Despite all the forced urgency they’ve been dealing with lately, the need for _fast_ and _hard_ and _now_ every time they have sex — it’s actually been kind of exhilarating, too. It’s almost felt like their college days all over again, back when they used to have to sneak around things like roommates and dorm rules to get some time together, which sort of made everything just that much more, god… _explosive_ when they were finally able to get their hands on one another. 

They were so constantly desperate to touch back then that — by the time graduation rolled around — Lexa is pretty sure they’d managed to have sex in, on, or under nearly every square foot of that campus, at some point. It’s a wonder they never got busted.

And it’s heightened everything between them lately, as well, which is… _oof._ So good. So, so good. It’s gotten to the point where, when they make it home during the day, they just… _whew._ They hardly even say hello to each other anymore. Sometimes, she can’t even get the door closed all the way before Clarke is just _on her,_ pressing her up against the wall and peeling her out of her stuffy 9-to-5 gear as fast as humanly possible so she can drop to her knees and bury her face between Lexa’s legs, or wrap around her from behind and fuck Lexa in that perfect hard and deep way only Clarke can that always drives Lexa right up to the edge of nearly _passing the hell out._

Lexa exhales slowly. 

It’s been…intense.

And just… _hnngh._ So amazing.

But it simply hasn’t been _enough._

So tonight? Lexa has _plans._

And with that one, shining thought in mind, she takes a deep breath…and opens the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy shit.”

Clarke is up and moving toward Lexa before she’s even finished clearing the doorway. 

Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth and her eyes are riveted directly between Lexa’s legs, and the expression on her face has Lexa flushing all over because it just instantly chases away all of her lingering anxieties like _that_.

As Clarke closes in, Lexa stands up a little taller, straightening her shoulders, her confidence growing by the second under her wife’s heated gaze. “You like it?” she asks quietly.

Clarke reaches down as if in a trance, and it’s only _just_ before her fingers come into contact with the dildo that she seems to realize what she’s doing. Her hand jerks to a stop over the shaft of it, hovering there. 

She slowly drags her eyes up to Lexa’s. When their gazes meet, Clarke tilts her head to the side and gives Lexa a look that’s equal parts _give me strength_ and _what gives you the right?_ before she flashes an inviting, lopsided grin and slides her hands over the curve of Lexa’s hips with a low, breathy moan. “Fuuuuuck, Lexa, this is so fucking hot…”

The combination of Clarke’s rasped words and the warmth of her hands against Lexa’s skin sends a shock of heat right through her. Her stomach swoops hard again, breaking her out in a fine sheen of goosebumps as Clarke steps in a little closer and leans her forehead against Lexa’s shoulder to stare down at the dildo once more. She lets go of Lexa’s hip to trail her fingertips along the supple leather straps, then gathers the toy in a light grasp, testing out the weight and feel of it gently.

“Oh, it’s so soft,” Clarke breathes, skimming her thumb up and down the length of it. 

Lexa exhales shakily. “It’s, um…” she begins, but when her voice breaks, she has to stop and try again. “Yeah, it’s…I thought you might like it.” 

Just watching Clarke do this is affecting her perhaps more than it should; she can already feel heat gathering between her legs and her pulse rate is picking up so much she can actually hear the faint repetition of it in her ears. “It seemed like it would feel nice, you know?” She slips her arm around to the small of Clarke’s back and draws her closer, her eyes following the motion of her wife’s hand as it caresses the toy, transfixed by the sight.

Clarke hums in appreciation. “Yeah.” She folds her hand around the dildo and gives it a careful squeeze, then glances up, catching Lexa’s eye and smirking. “It’s also kinda…like, it’s not too big or anything but this is… _girthier_ than our other ones, isn’t it?”

Lexa frowns. “No, I know, and I’m sorry about that. I didn’t quite understand the measurements, I think? When I ordered it? It was all kind of confusing. They had this weird measuring chart on the website that didn’t make any sense to me. Like it kept comparing finger widths to things like soda cans, and switching back and forth from centimeters to inches, and I —“ 

“No, no, no, Lexa, no, it’s alright,” Clarke shushes her, tapering off into a quiet, throaty laugh. She leans in and places a light kiss against the corner of Lexa’s mouth, smiling at her with nothing but fondness and warmth. “God, you’re adorable. No, it’s…” Her eyes darken, her smile shifting into something decidedly more suggestive. “I’m excited about that, trust me.”

As if to prove her point, Clarke keeps her eyes on Lexa and grips the dildo a bit more firmly, giving it a slight _tug._

Lexa makes a stifled noise. 

It’s enough to cause Clarke’s gaze to immediately sharpen, her eyebrow lifting in a wicked arch. “Oh, really?” Her tone is so raspy, it’s practically a whisper.

Lexa swallows thickly, her hand instinctively grasping at the silky material of Clarke’s dress. “It rides a little lower,” she explains, cursing how breathless she sounds right now. She has _plans_ , dammit. _Take charge_ types of plans. She’s supposed to be better than this. “It, uh…it feels different.” 

“I see,” Clarke says after a moment. 

She’s still watching Lexa so closely, so determinedly, so when Lexa feels Clarke sliding her hand against the length of the strap again, she tries _so hard_ not to give herself away, she does, but…she can feel the pressure and friction of it as if it were _actually her_ resting in the palm of Clarke’s hand right now. Even though it’s light, the base of the toy is pressing right up against her clit, and she’s just absolutely helpless to stop the strangled moan that escapes her when Clarke once again tightens her grip and nudges into her.

Clarke gives a soft groan in response, her other hand clamping down on Lexa’s hip and squeezing. Her eyes have darkened another few shades, and — may the gods have mercy on Lexa’s soul — they are positively _dancing._ “Fuck, Lexa…” She sways into Lexa’s shoulder again and bites softly at the jut of collarbone peeking out from beneath her shirt, then nuzzles into the crook of her neck. 

And though Clarke’s next words may be slightly muffled, their effect on Lexa is no less devastating when she mouths her way up Lexa’s jawline and says: “I want you inside me.”

Lexa splutters a bit, a shiver running through her at the feel of Clarke’s warm, soft lips still held to her throat. “Wh-what about dinner?” she manages, and then has to immediately clamp down on the urge to yeet herself out the window for what just came out of her mouth.

_What about dinner._

_Just…what’s happened to you here, honestly?_

Clarke raises up with a _tchh_ of annoyance. “Goddamn it. I forgot about dinner. Fuck.”

“I can call and cancel,” Lexa is quick to offer, suddenly praying for a way to bend the laws of linear time itself and go back 55 seconds to reverse the catastrophic error she’s just made.

“No, we can’t do that to Luna,” Clarke sighs, already doing that illegally-cute pout thing she does that always causes Lexa _(whose, like, actual job involves arguing cases)_ to _lose_ — in a spectacular fashion — every single time she encounters it. “She’s expecting us, babe. She’ll be so upset if we bail on her.”

Lexa knows she’s right. Luna may be her oldest and best friend, but she also has an ugly, vengeful temper and can be incredibly scary if you cross her. She did Lexa a solid giving them this reservation tonight. Her tables are normally booked out for weeks in advance, and if they don’t show up? Oh, Luna will be _pissed._ Lexa would never hear the end of it.

So Lexa knows, but…

She glances down at herself. She’s pants-less, strapped in, and so ready to go, and now she has to pack it all up to go have crab cakes with the woman who used to pity read Lexa’s terrible _Sailor Moon_ fan fic once upon a time. It’s just not fair.

“Alright,” Lexa grumbles, planting a kiss on Clarke’s cheek before she releases her with a reluctant whine and turns toward the bathroom. “Let me go change out of all this stuff…”

Clarke seizes Lexa’s wrist. “Wait.”

Lexa turns back, her eyebrows raised in question.

“Leave it on.”

A long moment of silence hangs between them before Lexa finally says: “Leave it _on?”_

“Yeah,” Clarke replies, raking her eyes up Lexa’s body with a slow nod. 

Something is kindling in her gaze, something that looks an awful lot like a certain dangerous, dangerous spark Lexa’s seen before in those gorgeous blue depths — the one that always signals Clarke is gearing up to start some major _trouble._ “I mean, you’ve done it before. Remember how much fun we had when I talked you into going undercover strap at Bellamy and Echo’s wedding? God, I lost count how many times we snuck away to go do the do in a dark corner that night.”

Lexa’s eyes go a little unfocused as images skitter across her brain like an x-rated movie montage. She hadn’t wanted to go to that wedding at all; she hasn’t liked Bellamy since that Fourth of July party when he got way too drunk and thought it would be appropriate to tell Lexa the only reason she ever had a shot with Clarke was because he never got the guts to ask her out first. Drunk or not, _(and wrong or not, something Clarke later confirmed loudly and vehemently once she’d finally gotten Lexa to tell her why she’d been trying to death glare Bellamy through a wall all night)_ — what kind of an asshole says that to someone, anyway?

But Clarke had been very, very, _very_ persuasive. And even though Lexa couldn’t walk properly for about a week afterward, it still ranks as one of the best damn weddings she’s ever attended, thank you very much.

“And you said it yourself,” Clarke continues, pulling Lexa out of her momentary trip down smutty memory lane. “You’re still trying to get used to how it feels, right? So this could maybe help you get a little extra practice, you know? Like desensitization or something.”

If Clarke knew how this thing felt right now, Lexa could very easily point out the flaws in her wife’s logic on that particular front, but she doesn’t think it’s important enough to interrupt her. She’s kind of on a roll.

“I mean, you’re wearing a suit, and it’s cool enough out for a jacket and everything, like…you could totally hide it.” 

She meets Lexa’s still slightly aghast stare, then crowds in a little closer, just enough for the toy to brush up against the silky material of the sleek black midi dress she’s wearing. When her tongue darts out to wet her lips, Lexa’s gaze drops down to her mouth, mesmerized. “And the best part? It will drive me absolutely crazy knowing that you’ve got all _that_ —“ she trails a finger along the toy, grinning at Lexa’s sharp intake of breath, “just waiting for me at a moment’s notice tonight, hot stuff.”

Clarke pauses to savor the effect, the corner of her mouth ticking up higher as she watches Lexa struggle to keep herself from hyperventilating. “Oh, and one more thing…” 

She reaches down and takes Lexa’s suddenly boneless fingers in her grasp, then gathers the hem of her dress in her other hand and guides Lexa underneath. She slides Lexa’s fingertips up the inner curve of her very warm, very smooth thigh until they come into contact with…

“Oh my god.” Lexa gasps so hard, she swears she might have just knocked out a filling. Her eyes fly up to Clarke’s.

“Uh-huh. That’s right. No knickers, babe. Completely knickerless, just for you.”

Lexa makes a noise that, if she were feeling more poetic, she might describe as a hyena coughing through a kazoo, maybe — then gives a valiant attempt to reach up a bit further, her fingertips just barely grazing the wet heat between Clarke’s legs before Clarke’s breath hitches and she folds her hand over Lexa’s own. 

“No, no, no, no, not so fast…” Clarke says, shutting Lexa down and drawing both of their hands back out from underneath her dress with a shaky laugh. 

She releases Lexa and takes a step back. And despite the fact Lexa’s jaw is clenched so tight right now she swears she can hear it _creaking_ , she gets a flicker of _‘misery-loves-company’_ satisfaction when she notices how flushed Clarke looks and how she seems to be having a tiny bit of trouble steadying her breathing. 

But any minor _‘a-ha!’_ vindication she’s feeling gets completely ripped away when, in the next moment, Clarke drops one of those sly, insta-fire grins on Lexa and says: “All I’d have to do is say the word, and at any point tonight, you could just lift up this dress and totally fuck me senseless, Lexa.”

“Jesus, Clarke…” Lexa chokes. She’s pretty sure her stomach just plummeted somewhere down between her ankles. She’s also pretty sure it’s gonna be a minute before she’s able to recover from that.

Gratefully, Clarke seems to take pity on her. Her expression softens and she laughs quietly, reaching out to brush the back of her fingers against Lexa’s cheek. When their gazes connect, the look in Clarke’s eyes has toned down to one of gentle affection. 

“So whadd’ya say, gorgeous? You feel like being a little bad with me?”

Lexa looks at her for a moment, deciding. _You had plans. You had plans, and they did not include this, but…_

She’s been through her fair share of trials by now, and they’ve taught her one very important lesson. 

The thing that separates good strategists from great strategists? 

A willingness to improvise. 

“Give me ten minutes, and I’m all yours,” Lexa says, then kisses that _trouble_ spark right back into Clarke’s eyes all over again.

~~~~~~~~~

“Are you even listening to me right now?” Luna asks, which causes Lexa to raise up so fast, her knee thwacks into the underside of the table. She hadn’t realized she’d slouched so far forward in her chair until just that moment. 

“Ow…” She shifts in her seat, her thighs clenching around the hand currently wedged between them, then meets Luna’s steady gaze. She looks slightly annoyed and completely unmoved by Lexa’s yelp of pain. 

Luna’s displeased expression prompts an immediate _‘sorry’_ from Lexa. She rubs one hand over the sore spot on her knee, and uses the other to give a quick squeeze to Clarke’s wrist in a silent plea for mercy. 

And she feels bad, she truly does, because…no. No she’s not been listening to Luna. Not at all, really. She’s been too focused on the fact that — ever since she joined them at their table, while Luna’s been catching them up on all the latest goings on at the restaurant and telling them stories and such — Clarke has been steadily stroking and massaging the toy tucked discreetly against the inside of Lexa’s thigh. 

And because every subtle attempt Lexa’s made so far to get her to cease this maddening torture has been met with nothing but Clarke’s singular brand of stubborn persistence? Lexa has had to abandon most of her social skills to just concentrate on a) breathing, and b) remembering that she can’t, in fact, spread her wife out on this table and do all the things she’s been picturing doing to her this entire night, no matter what contrary ideas her horny gay heart might be shouting at her right now. 

Clarke’s incognito fondling is causing just enough friction that Lexa’s parts are practically _screaming_ ; everything between her legs is beyond sensitive and standing straight up at attention and she’s so wet she can’t even call it uncomfortable anymore. She’s flown right past that. She’s just _soaked._ She’s amazed she’s not actually sticking to this chair, it’s so bad.

Clarke, for her part, has betrayed none of this, of course. Which, if perhaps Lexa weren’t on the receiving end of this whole ordeal, is something she’d probably find rather impressive. Clarke’s been chatting with Luna like nothing’s happening at all, calm as you please — laughing, smiling, and bantering per usual. She’s been downright _effervescent._ Meanwhile, Lexa’s been basically blushing and _‘mmmhmm-ing’_ her way through the entire damn conversation and swilling so much water you’d think she’d just run a 10K to fucking get here. 

Lexa sits up a bit taller, focusing on Luna. “I’m totally listening,” she lies, swallowing the noise that lodges in her throat when she feels Clarke’s palm gliding over the dildo again. She has no idea what Luna had been talking about before Lexa interrupted her, but she takes a stab at it, anyway. “You, uh…so you said your cheese people are fighting?” She flicks a _‘you’re killing me’_ glance at Clarke, and gets a far-too delighted grin in response. Clearly, Clarke knows exactly what she’s doing to Lexa. And she’s loving every second of it.

When Lexa looks back to Luna, she’s still peering at her with a bit of suspicion, but since she hasn’t launched into an _‘I knew it!’_ tirade about how Lexa is the worst, it appears as if she’s maybe lucked out and guessed right. 

“Yeah, my stupid cheese people are fighting. And it’s shitty, too, because they’re the only suppliers around here who make the kind of gruyere I use for that risotto.” She motions to the mostly-empty plates sitting in front of them. “But now they’re having this big disagreement about their business plans or whatever and talking about splitting up, and —“

Lexa abruptly hunches forward and makes a strained sound that quickly dissolves into a fit of coughing. As she draws her arm across her face to cover her cough, she shoots another pleading look at Clarke.

“Are you alright, Lex?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Lexa manages, cringing when her voice comes out at a much higher pitch than it did a minute ago. She waves Luna off as she tries to recover, reaching for her water glass. “Throat’s just a little dry.”

Clarke snorts, smothering her grin behind her hand the instant Luna looks over at her. She raises her eyebrows innocently and shrugs. “Allergies are tough this time of year.”

Just as Luna opens her mouth to reply, a voice says: “Excuse me, Chef?”

They look up to discover a young, red-cheeked lad dressed in a crisp chef’s jacket standing next to their table. He gives Clarke and Lexa a nod and an uneasy smile before shifting back to Luna, clearly nervous about whatever it is he’s here for. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, Chef, but Rosa asked me to tell you that we’re running low on sea bass? She can’t seem to find any more in the walk-in.”

In the space of a few seconds, Luna switches over to work mode, transforming from friend to business owner right before their eyes. “Okay, not a problem,” she tells him, and even though she pats his arm in reassurance, Lexa hears Luna mutter _‘fucking sea bass’_ as she pushes away from the table and stands up. “Be right there.” The lad nods and gives all of them another wobbly smile before heading back in the direction of the kitchen.

“Aww, look at all that HBIC respect. That’s adorable,” Clarke says, grinning at Luna. She gestures at the restaurant. “I love that this is, like, _yours,_ you know? Your realm. So proud of you, Luna. You’re kicking ass.”

“Oh hell, see? Now I have to hug you,” Luna replies with a laugh, maneuvering around the table to stand between their chairs. “I mean, I was going to hug you anyway, but…” 

She slings an arm around both of them and gives them a quick embrace, which…well, Clarke returns, at least. Lexa does her best, but given her general state and what’s hidden in her trousers, she’s a little edgy about being quite this up close and personal with her childhood bestie right now. It just seems sort of…wrong. As Lexa awkwardly _‘pat-pats’_ her friend’s shoulder, she fires a brief look of alarm at Clarke. 

“You two stay, though, yeah?” Luna adds, releasing them and taking a few steps away toward the kitchen. “Relax and enjoy and all that. I’ll send out some dessert for you.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay,” Lexa says, perhaps a little too hastily. Off Luna’s quizzical look, she adds: “Got an early morning tomorrow. We really should be getting home…”

“We can stay just a _little_ longer, can’t we, babe?” Clarke breaks in, leaning into Lexa and bumping her with her shoulder. 

From her vantage point, Luna can’t see the evil grin Clarke is aiming at Lexa right now. Nor the hand currently teasing over the zipper of Lexa’s trousers. But she can see Lexa’s expression, which has frozen somewhere between a grimace and one of those wooden _‘school picture day’_ smiles at that moment because…she realizes she’s about to be well and truly trapped, here. She’s trying to think of something, _anything_ to say that might get her out of of this, but her brain simply won’t cooperate. She’s got nothing but tumbleweeds blowing around upstairs, it would seem. 

“Suuure…” Lexa finally says, forcing the word past clenched teeth. “Why not?”

With a pleased nod, Luna continues her exit. “Clarke, keep that one out of trouble, will you?” she calls back as she walks away, disappearing through the kitchen doors a moment later.

As soon as she’s gone, Clarke leans into her again and grips the dildo through the long-suffering material of Lexa’s pants, which causes Lexa to gasp softly and grab on to the edge of the table. 

“Fuck…” 

Clarke gives a low, gratified laugh. She places her lips against Lexa’s ear and nibbles delicately at her earlobe, whispering: “She’s gonna be so, so disappointed in me before this night’s over…” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Lexa lasts through half a slice of cheesecake before she just can’t take it anymore. 

They pretty much race to the car. 

Despite all of Clarke’s tormenting, by the time they hurry out of the restaurant, she’s honestly just as keyed up as Lexa. She whispered as much in Lexa’s ear throughout the entirety of their very short-lived dessert course, describing in painful, glorious detail all the different things it does to Clarke to watch Lexa squirm until Lexa simply gave. The. Fuck. Up. Tossed aside whatever remnants of _stay strong_ willpower she had left, and pulled Clarke into her arms right there in the middle of the restaurant for a deep, long kiss that left Clarke absolutely trembling.

And that settled it.

As they approach the car, there’s a moment when Clarke slows her steps to allow Lexa to cross over to the driver’s side, which has them passing within inches of each other. When Lexa slips by her, she catches the faint but _know-it-anywhere_ scent of Clarke’s arousal on the night air and it draws her up short in an instant, breath hitching as an eruption of heat blooms below her bellybutton and spreads out, scattering through her like fire sparks. 

Before Lexa even realizes she’s doing it, she hooks an arm around Clarke and gathers her in, embracing her from behind. When Lexa loops her forearms around Clarke’s waist to pull her closer, she has to suppress a whimper at the feel of Clarke’s ass snugging into the cradle of her hips, and the resulting soft grind of the toy against her. She buries her face into the nape of Clarke’s neck and breathes in deep, sighing when Clarke leans back and virtually melts into her.

“God, Clarke…” The effect of it all is dizzying. It’s not just the throb of sensation between her legs that’s spinning her up so badly — it’s everything. It’s Clarke’s smell, light and warm and elemental. Something Lexa knows so well it’s come to mean home for her, will _always_ mean home for her, and it soothes her just as much as it ignites her.

It’s the contented sounds Clarke makes as she runs her hands up and down Lexa’s forearms, and the tilt of her smile when Lexa trails gentle kisses over the back of her neck and down across her shoulders.

And it’s the blue of her eyes when they connect with Lexa’s, the honesty and history she sees in them. 

Clarke is just so much. Every contradiction on the spectrum, from pole to pole: bright and dark, steel and satin, sky and earth…you name it, it’s there somewhere. And somehow… _somehow_ Lexa was lucky enough to be the one she chose. It’s still hard for her to believe it, at times. 

Lexa kisses her way across Clarke’s neck, her hands beginning to roam. As her palms smooth over Clarke’s hips and across the soft slope of her belly, she feels as much as hears the catch in Clarke’s breathing, the rise and fall of her chest noticeably picking up. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” she murmurs against the shell of Clarke’s ear, smiling when it draws a low moan. 

“Says literally the most gorgeous woman in the Tri-State area,” Clarke immediately lobs back. She skims her hand up the back of Lexa’s thigh to give her ass a light squeeze. “And don’t even get me started on this.”

If she weren’t so preoccupied, Lexa would definitely argue the point, but her mouth’s too busy nipping at Clarke’s neck for that. 

“Shit…” Clarke breathes, reaching back to grip Lexa’s hips. “Okay, we have to go right now or we’re gonna end up on the hood of this car, I swear to god. Luna will come out here and turn a hose on us.”

Lexa stops and leans her head against Clarke’s shoulder with a quiet groan of frustration. After a moment, she looks up, locking eyes with Clarke. “I need to touch you.”

Something flares in Clarke’s gaze. She shifts around to face Lexa, stepping in close and slotting a thigh between her legs. It forces a harsh exhalation past Lexa’s lips.

“I think that can be arranged.”

~~~~~~~~~

“We’re going to get arrested,” Lexa says for what must be the 15th time.

Clarke scoots further down in the passenger seat, her legs falling open wider to better accommodate the angle of Lexa’s fingers. “We’re not going to get — oh god, yeah…right there, oh that’s good — arrest…” She trails off in a series of pants, hips bucking in time with the motion of Lexa’s hand. “Oh, fuck, that feels really good…”

The knuckles of Lexa’s free hand go white around the steering wheel, both from the sounds Clarke’s making right now, and the stress she’s under. “If we get pulled over, we’re definitely getting arrested. You’re not even wearing your seat belt!”

“We’re going, like, 20 miles…an hour-ah-ah…god, yeah…and are we really gonna argue about this right now?! Mmm, that’s so nice, god, that’s nice…”

As Lexa steers around the next curve _(in every sense of the phrase)_ , she catches a glimpse of a familiar road sign in the headlights. And in an act of pure self-preservation, she makes a quick judgement call, turning onto the access road ahead. 

In her periphery, she sees Clarke shoot her a look. “Wait, where are we go — fuck!”

“Sorry! Pothole. Didn’t see it. I’m so sorry!” 

“Okay, time out. Time out…” Clarke reaches down and grabs Lexa’s wrist, drawing her hand out from between her legs and placing it against her thigh with a _stay there_ pat as she scrambles to sit up again. “Where are you taking us?” She squints out the window to search for clues as she pulls her dress back down over her lap.

“We’re right by Willard Beach.” And despite the fact they’re technically trespassing on state park property right now, Lexa can’t help but grin when she adds: “This is the road down to our secret hideout.”

“No way…” Clarke sits up taller and peers out the windshield, scanning the road ahead. “Is it? Oh my god, we haven’t been here in, like…”

“I think it was maybe senior year, the last time?”

Clarke laughs quietly, her eyes still on the view. “Yeah. That sounds about right.” Her voice is softer now — awed, and shaded with memories. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you remembered how to get here.”

As the first glimpse of shoreline comes into view, Lexa glances at Clarke and gives the thigh beneath her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’d never forget this place.”

They look at each other a moment, Clarke’s mouth curving into a soft smile. 

Then her face falls. “Okay, now I feel bad because you’re being all sweet and romantic here and I’m the thirsty ho who just wants to get strap fucked in public.” 

Lexa bursts into laughter. She pulls the car to a stop and kills the engine, quirking an eyebrow at Clarke. “Who says we can’t have both?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh god…” Clarke pants, her hips picking up speed as she lists forward and splays her hands against Lexa’s tensed stomach, Lexa’s abdominal muscles twitching beneath them. “You did so good with this, babe. This is officially one of the best presents you’ve…aahh, fuck…ever gotten me. God, even just this feels really fucking good…”

Lexa adjusts her hold and reaches up, smoothing a hand over Clarke’s chest to curve around her breast, her thumb circling and teasing at the hard nipple pressed into her palm. As she sways into the touch, Clarke tips her head forward to make eye contact with Lexa, and _god._ This is a sight that has always made Lexa’s blood race and her heart trip right out of control: Clarke straddling her, fire-eyed and flushed, hands laid flat against Lexa’s ribcage to ground herself as she rolls her hips in a slow, steady grind. Lexa loves watching her like this. Can’t get enough of it. 

But with the way Clarke’s framed against the dramatic backdrop of their surroundings right now — the yellow-gold moonlight spilling in over her shoulders and the tranquil ocean waves breaking against the shoreline in the distance — she looks like an absolute fucking goddess. Skin shimmering with a slight glow of perspiration, dark eyes and her hair all tousled and flowing in the crisp breeze coming in off the water…she’s so stunning and beautiful at this moment it’s stealing the breath right out of Lexa’s lungs just to look at her. She’s _gorgeous._

And in juxtaposition to all this achingly ethereal beauty spread out in front of Lexa right now, when she thinks about where they are and what they’re doing, she just sort of has to laugh, because… 

They’re in the backseat of the car. 

They could have gone for a more romantic spot and headed down to the beach, but the logistics of the situation and thoughts of sand in unwanted places tipped them both toward the conclusion that this would definitely be the better option. 

So, yes, they’re in the car. Doors wide open. With Lexa stretched out along the backseat and Clarke on top, kneeling astride her. And they at least have a blanket — a stroke of luck that boils down to Lexa forgetting she’d left it in her car after they used it for a picnic a couple months ago, but… _still._ It’s something. No bare asses on car leather to contend with. 

At first, Lexa was worried this would probably turn out to be a tragically cramped and horribly uncomfortable situation for them both, but it seems as if she may have misjudged the roominess of the average modern midsize SUV, because, actually…? 

Her eyes pan over the vision in front of her. 

Well. On top of her. 

_Hnnngh._

_Fuck._

Yeah, they’re managing just fine. 

As coincidence would have it, _this_ is another callback to their college days, too. They used to come here all the time back then, the seclusion of this spot and its general lack of traffic making it a prime locale for them to sneak away to when they either grew tired of dodging their respective roommates, or simply wanted somewhere to go where they wouldn’t have to worry about making too much noise for a while. There’s only one road in and no way for anyone to sneak up on them along this stretch of beach. It’s completely private and perfect and it was a hell of a lucky find for a couple of dorm dwelling girls who couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other. They’ve spent a lot of hours in this cozy little alcove. 

So to be back here now, with Clarke’s warm weight settled on top of her and the electric way she’s looking at Lexa at this moment, as if she wanted to practically devour her on the spot — it’s calling up a bit of nostalgia, for sure. 

And she’s not sure if that’s what’s causing it or not, but…for some reason? It also seems to be kind of tugging at Lexa’s proverbial emotional strings, too. With an intensity she wasn’t quite prepared for when she steered them here tonight. 

Beneath the haze of desire clouding up her thoughts and the heat blazing through her system, she feels a little…god, fragile, almost. Like something’s opened inside, loosed some feelings she usually doesn’t wear this close to the surface, especially not when she and Clarke are both running as hot as this. It’s not a bad sensation by any means. It’s just…different. _Deeper._ But she can’t really say she’s sorry about it.

“I’m glad you approve,” Lexa says, groaning softly when Clarke bears down and grinds against her a little harder.

“Mmm…fuck yes, I approve. God, you’re gonna fuck me so good with this thing, I can already tell…” 

They’ve just gotten started, really; Clarke hasn’t even taken the dildo inside of her yet, she’s just gliding on it right now, slicking it up, dragging soaked, slippery folds up and down its length at an irresistibly slow-going pace to test it out, get the feel of it. Which is… _unf._ So hot. _Unbearably_ hot. Lexa doesn’t think she’s blinked once since Clarke started doing this.

And honestly, that’s kind of a miracle, because each time she lifts up and settles back down on the strap? It sends a jolt of absolute _fire_ running straight through Lexa. She’s been hovering in such a state of suspended arousal all night that, at this point, she’s so sensitive and swollen each downward press of Clarke’s hips feels as if it’s basically lighting up every. Last. One. of her nerve endings. And with the amount of wetness streaked across Lexa’s thighs at this moment…well. She’s just grateful she drank all that water earlier. Otherwise, she’d probably be dangerously dehydrated right now.

So it’s… _powerful_ , to say the least. Maybe just shy of being too much, at certain points? She’s not sure. But _god,_ it feels incredible. 

Which is also why Lexa’s afraid it’s not going to take much more of this _at all_ to send her sailing right over the edge. She can already feel an insistent pressure building way down deep in her stomach and coiling under her ribs, and with every lazy drag of Clarke’s hips and each low, half-sighed sound that shudders out of her mouth, it just keeps driving Lexa up higher and higher and _higher._

So, naturally, because life can be cruel sometimes — Clarke speeds up.

Then grinds down harder. 

The change hits _fast_ , taking Lexa by surprise, hips surging upwards as a pulse of white-hot sensation explodes through her. She sucks in a breath and grabs Clarke around the thighs, her fingertips sinking in when she feels a familiar shiver of heat between her legs.

“Clarke…baby. I think I’m gonna…fuck…” 

Lexa shudders and cries out, going rigid, and Clarke immediately freezes, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion as she stares down at Lexa. It’s quiet for a moment. 

“Did you just…?”

“Yup. Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Lexa says, her voice cracking over the last word. She exhales shakily and lets go of Clarke, slinging an arm across her eyes in embarrassment.

“Wow. Okay.” Clarke pauses for a second, absorbing that. “I mean, I think that’s maybe a new record…”

Lexa drops her arm to pin Clarke with an unamused stare. “I’ve had a night, okay?”

At that, Clarke’s perplexed expression clears, a slow, pleased grin slinking into place, instead. “Fair. Totally fair.” 

She’s obviously delighted by all of this, which just makes Lexa scowl even harder. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that…” Clarke says, grin widening as she bends down to kiss the pout off Lexa’s lips. She collapses on top of Lexa and hooks her arms under her shoulders to hug her closer, then drops another kiss in the center of Lexa’s chest. “I am really starting to wonder where you got this strap from, though, because seriously…that was impressive. I feel like that maybe deserves some customer feedback, don’t you?” 

When Lexa groans and tries to cover her eyes again, Clarke laughs again, slipping her arm out from under Lexa to gently capture her hand. She laces their fingers together and brings Lexa’s arm back down to her side.

“And it just means we get to go again,” Clarke adds, giving Lexa’s hand a playful shake. “So take a minute, champ, and stop being embarrassed. I know you’ve got the goods.”

Despite herself, Lexa grins at the praise, her cheeks heating up a bit. “The goods, huh.”

“Hell yeah,” Clarke declares, tilting up her chin to look at Lexa. Her pupils have blown so wide, they look practically infinite in this low light. “Capital G goods. I know exactly what you can do, hot stuff.” 

They stare at each other, the moment gradually charging up. Clarke’s eyes drop down to Lexa’s mouth. 

“God, come here…”

The kiss goes on for a while, slow and easy at first, but when Lexa’s breath hitches, Clarke growls softly against Lexa’s lips and deepens it, the urgency spiraling up _quick._ Clarke’s hips pitch into Lexa once, twice…she takes the hint in an instant, shifting out of Clarke’s hold to reach down between them, seeking out the divinely warm, soft heat she can feel pressing against her stomach. And when her fingers reach their target and Lexa feels how beautifully, _impossibly_ wet Clarke is, she whimpers into Clarke’s mouth and immediately pulls her closer.

Clarke kisses back hard. There’s something heavier in it this time, a certain gravity to it that sinks deep into Lexa’s senses, makes everything _more._ The give of Clarke’s lips against hers, the sharp, earthy scent of her, the sweep of her tongue in Lexa’s mouth…it all floods over Lexa and fills her with need, and a split second later she’s just _down_ in it, can’t wait any longer, her hand dipping lower to slip two fingers inside of Clarke.

At the first gentle thrust of Lexa’s fingers, Clarke breaks their kiss with a shattered cry, head falling forward as her hips buck against Lexa’s hand. “Lexa, ah…god…god…” 

She lifts up and places her hands on either side of Lexa’s head to brace herself, her breasts swaying into just the perfect position for Lexa to be able to lean forward and wrap her lips around Clarke’s nipple, drawing it into her mouth with a wholly satisfied _‘mmph’._

Above her, Clarke’s breath flies out of her in this gorgeously frayed and _filthy_ moan that hits Lexa right between her legs, her eyes slamming shut at the sound of it. _Holy fuck._

As Clarke rides Lexa’s fingers, Lexa loses herself in everything: in the feel of her tongue teasing over Clarke’s breast and the hot, wet cling of Clarke around her fingers, in the noises Clarke’s making and the look of utter concentration on her face when she throws her head back and rocks harder into Lexa’s hand, teeth sunk deep into her bottom lip. She looks so lovely and wild and Lexa can’t take her eyes off of her, not even for a second. 

When Clarke pitches forward again, Lexa releases her breast and rises up to meet her, licking a stripe up the center of Clarke’s chest and scattering open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, tasting skin and sweat and sea spray and… _god._ The ache between Lexa’s thighs flares bright and hot again. 

She scrapes her teeth over the hollow above Clarke’s collarbone, and when the volume of Clarke’s moans spikes up sharply, Lexa grins and goes back, lingering there until she manages to suck a purplish bloom of color into Clarke’s skin, then licking over the spot to soothe the burn. She begins to move to the opposite side, but before Lexa can get there for a repeat performance — Clarke reaches out and puts a hand against Lexa’s chest, her movements slowing.

“I need…I need…” She’s still trying to catch her breath.

She shifts up onto her knees and reaches down, her fingers encircling Lexa’s wrist to slowly draw her hand out from between Clarke’s legs, shivering at the feel of Lexa’s fingers withdrawing from her. The second Lexa’s fingers slide free, Clarke’s eyelids flutter and fall shut. “God.” She remains there, the silence interrupted only by the stilted in-and-out cadence of her rough breathing. 

Then her eyes fly open. “Switch places with me.” 

And Lexa _definitely_ knows where this is heading. Hence why she’s so stupidly giddy right now. 

But even if she didn’t know? There’s enough razor-edged tension in Clarke’s tone that Lexa doesn’t even _think_ about hesitating to comply, scrambling up to follow Clarke’s lead as she shuffles out of the backseat and repositions them until Lexa is propped up above her and Clarke is lying back, her legs wrapped around Lexa’s middle. And when Lexa glances down and sees the look of hellbent intensity burning in Clarke’s eyes at that moment… _oh._ It makes her head swim.

“Is this okay?”

Lexa can only manage a quick nod in response, her heart hammering faster and her whole body flushing with heat when Clarke reaches down to guide the strap toward her entrance. Lexa’s lips part as she watches Clarke drag the dildo through the wetness pooled between her legs, slicking it up again. Everything in her head has just faded _right the fuck down,_ turned to static. There’s nothing but _this_ and _now_ and _here_ and _Clarke_ to her anymore. 

Clarke locks eyes with Lexa, and at Clarke’s signal, Lexa nudges her hips forward, her breath catching in her throat at that first incredible hint of resistance, and the broken moan that tumbles from Clarke’s lips when Lexa pushes in slowly…carefully…easing her way deeper inside by increments. 

“Fuck, that feels…oh, that’s good. That’s so good…” Clarke reaches for her then, clasps a hand around Lexa’s hip and plunges the other into her hair to draw her down for a deep, slow kiss, Lexa swallowing the little noises Clarke makes when, a few moments later — their hips press flush together, meeting with a soft caress of leather against skin. 

Clarke releases a long, jagged exhalation, her mouth trembling against Lexa’s lips. She slides her hands over the swell of Lexa’s ass to hold her in place, fingertips clutching at her softly as Clarke’s thighs clench tighter around Lexa’s hips. 

Their kissing grows hotter, _wetter,_ and there’s that heaviness to it again, that _significance,_ and it rolls through Lexa _hard_ — slamming her with chills and heat and want and this whole damn avalanche crash of everything she feels for Clarke, and when it hits — it nearly knocks the air right out of her, forces Lexa to break away from Clarke with a surprised, choked gasp.

She brings her forehead down against Clarke’s, their eyes meeting as Lexa works to smooth out her breathing. And what passes between them in that moment is…everything, really. Checking in. Checking on. Knowing each other all the way down to their very foundations. Trust. _Love._ And a whole lot of thirst. It’s all there.

“You okay?” Clarke whispers, sliding her hands up Lexa’s back to cradle the nape of her neck between her palms. Her fingertips weave into the soft curls there.

Lexa takes another moment to just look at her before she answers, freeze framing the image of this somewhere in her mind, filing it away so she doesn’t lose it. “I’m…amazing.”

Clarke smiles, her eyebrow ticking up. She drops her hands to rest against the small of Lexa’s back, her legs falling open wider and her gaze shifting to Lexa’s mouth when she says: “Yeah, you are.” Then surges up to kiss her. 

There’s a singe to the way she’s kissing Lexa now that Lexa recognizes right away. It’s all frenzy and hunger and heat and she knows it means Clarke’s patience is wearing thin, so when Clarke changes the angle and her tongue slips into Lexa’s mouth, she has to immediately claw back the instinct to thrust into her, Lexa’s fingers sinking into the seat back as she struggles to get herself under control. That’s Clarke’s call to make.

And thank the gods, because seriously, she’s about to _fucking die_ — Lexa doesn’t have to wait very long for her to make it. Because in the next moment, after one last soft nip to Lexa’s bottom lip, Clarke relinquishes her mouth and falls back, her head lolling against the seat as she raises her eyes up to Lexa and tells her, simply: 

“I need you to fuck me.” 

The seat back creaks beneath Lexa’s grip. And in a moment of unexpected wit — given the fact her brain just completely short-circuited — she hears herself somehow echoing Clarke’s words from earlier in the night right back to her. 

“I think that can be arranged.” 

And then Lexa gently draws back her hips, and sinks into Clarke.

“Holy sh…” Clarke instantly raises up to bend into the feel of it, thighs jerking against Lexa’s as she tilts her head back and arches her spine, opening herself wider. 

Lexa takes it slow, her eyes never once leaving Clarke’s face while she lets her get used to the drag and stretch, watching her carefully for any signs of discomfort. Clarke’s so wet that it’s easy to glide into her; Lexa can feel the fullness, the clench of her around the dildo, but there’s no obvious signs of trouble. No hissed breath or tensing up. And given the noises she’s making right now… _god._ Though it certainly doesn’t sound like any of this is too much for Clarke, it may be for Lexa. Her heart is rattling against her ribcage so hard, she’s afraid it may actually just give right out. 

As Lexa pulls back again, Clarke’s lips part on this amazing sound that starts off as a whimper, turns up to a moan, and doesn’t trail off until Lexa is almost on the verge of drawing out of her completely. And as soon as she feels Lexa begin to ease forward again, Clarke gasps and lifts her hips up to meet her, wrapping her arms tight around Lexa and tugging her closer to bring more of them into contact. 

It feels incredible: Clarke’s breasts pressed warm and heavy against her chest and the softness of their bellies sliding together, the scorch of her hands on Lexa’s back and the way Clarke presses her mouth to Lexa’s neck and bites down gently when Lexa bottoms out again, the heat and hum of her moan purring against Lexa’s throat sending a ripple of _god yes_ shivers right through her all over again.

And beneath the touch and feel of it all, it’s the intimacy there, too, that has Lexa really spinning. That sense of _close. Together._ Of being so open and just… _honest_ with someone else that it can be like this. Feel so much like _them_ — just them, with nothing else in the way. That’s how it’s always been with Clarke.

“Stay there.” A hot puff of breath against Lexa’s neck. “Just…stay there for a second.”

Lexa stills immediately. 

After a moment, Clarke’s arms relax around Lexa and she leans back, her eyes slowly fluttering open. And when they settle on Lexa, and she sees the way Clarke is looking at her, it causes something so warm and full to swell through Lexa’s chest she has to take a breath, wait for it to settle back down before she’s able to speak again. 

“Still okay?” The need to make sure tightens the words, colors Lexa’s voice with tension.

Clarke bites her lip and gives a nod and a soft hum of approval, the corner of her mouth tilting up a fraction. She doesn’t seem capable of much more than that at this moment. But when she notices the uncertainty still lingering in Lexa’s eyes, she swallows hard and manages to add: “God, Lexa…so fucking good.” Her voice is rasped and rough and Lexa thinks it’s one of the sexiest goddamn things she’s ever, ever heard, and that’s saying something. Clarke’s given her a hell of a lot of material to choose from over the years. 

And it’s all the encouragement Lexa needs. 

At Clarke’s nod, Lexa moves again.

She keeps everything slow and steady at first, feeling Clarke gradually relax into each long stroke, her whole body loosening up beneath Lexa as they settle in to the rise and fall and begin to move in sync. 

It heats up fast; soon it’s all sweat-slicked thighs and heavy gasps and Clarke’s hands moving over Lexa restlessly, clutching at her, the wet noise of the strap sliding in and out of her again slamming through Lexa just as hard as the dull pressure against her clit, making her head spin, her arms tremble. But she wrestles it all back. Focuses on the feel of Clarke’s legs cinching more tightly around her and the way her fingertips dig into Lexa’s shoulders, the quickening twitch of her hips and how she arches her back and tilts up to meet Lexa each time she presses forward — the drive and desperation clinging to and shouting through Clarke’s every response, every sound, every stuttered breath and hitch of movement. 

That’s all Lexa can see, or know, or think about at that moment. Clarke’s after something already, pursuing it. Spiraling up. And when Lexa leans down to kiss her, the second their mouths slant together, she senses the change take over. Catches that sharp gasp that tells her Clarke won’t be able to hold out much longer. Catches the way she’s slowly dialing up the pace, and the tremor that rolls through her when Lexa sweeps her tongue past Clarke’s lips and swallows the soft moan it causes her to make. 

Lexa drags her mouth away and hovers over Clarke’s, their shallow breaths mingling. There’s something molten in Clarke’s eyes now, caught at that tipping point between _here_ and _gone_ that Lexa has seen so, so many times before, and the words just shake right free: “Come for me, baby. I want to see you...” 

“God…Lexa…” Clarke starts grinding into her harder and Lexa’s hips begin to roll and everything just _charges_ up from there. 

Clarke’s mouth drops open and her gasps turn into moans, into Lexa’s name, into _‘fuck yes’_ and _‘just like that’_ and Lexa doesn’t look back, doesn’t let up for a second. It’s all just heat and wet and friction, Clarke’s hands scratching down Lexa’s back, and the solid slap of their bodies meeting over and over and over.

There’s an intense ache building again in the pit of Lexa’s stomach. She can feel the shift happening in Clarke, too, knows the moment the chase kicks in by the skip and stutter in the grind of Clarke’s hips and pitch of her moans, how she grasps at Lexa’s thighs, belly, shoulders, anywhere she can reach — her body trembling underneath her — and the way she throws her head back and cries out when Lexa starts angling her thrusts to reach that one perfect spot against her front wall. 

She’s close, she’s so close, and she’s just so fucking beautiful, and as Lexa feels her begin to fall apart those are the only two thoughts left clattering around inside her head when she locks her arms at Clarke’s sides and just starts _driving into her faster._

“Fuuuck…” The word has barely tumbled from Clarke’s mouth before her hips lift up and she’s soaring right over the edge, choking on a broken cry as she seizes up and grabs on tight to Lexa’s shoulders.

And god. It is _glorious_ to watch. Clarke’s head tilted back, lips parted, eyes shut tight, completely suspended for a moment before a sigh spills out of her mouth and she comes back trembling and sweating and holding onto Lexa as hard as she possibly can as it all just _crashes_ right over her. 

It’s enough to send Lexa over, too — jaw clenched and her whole body shuddering as her orgasm rips through her, buckles her arms and makes her cry out, her head dropping forward with a rough expulsion of breath. And as she rides it out and the shocks begin to recede, she eases them both down, her movements slowing until she feels Clarke heave in a breath and fall back against the seat below. 

Quiet settles over them. For a minute, it’s just the waves in the distance and the sounds of their labored breathing, and Lexa’s heartbeat shifting speed and thundering down, the thump of it resonating through her entire chest. 

She can still feel Clarke shaking. 

Lexa looks up. Her eyes feel so heavy but she fights it, forces herself to focus, and when she finally does, she finds Clarke just watching her, still working to catch her breath. She doesn’t say anything, and somehow, just from the way she’s looking at her — Lexa knows she shouldn’t, either. 

This isn’t a moment for words. 

Sometimes, they just don’t need them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I was going to propose to you here,” Lexa says, drawing the blanket up around Clarke’s shoulders.

Clarke raises up to look at her, mouth parted in surprise. “What? Really?” She shifts on top of Lexa to see her better, and when she slots their legs together, Lexa jumps, her breath hissing.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m taking you home. Your feet are freezing!”

“No! Oh, and first of all…sorry.” Clarke shifts again. “But also? Noooo…I want to see the sunrise…” She slides her arms underneath Lexa and snuggles in, laying her head back down on her chest. “And besides, you’re keeping me plenty warm.”

Lexa laughs. “You realize we’re going to have to put some clothes on before the sun comes up, right? This place is secluded, yeah, but if someone does happen to spot us…?”

Clarke lifts up again, peering around the car. “Where are your clothes, anyway?” She looks down, her eyebrow ticking up. “Oh, and real quick, before you answer that…” She gestures to the floorboard. “Don’t forget all your hot stuff gear is still down here when we get home. If you go trucking off to work on Monday with this thing still rolling around in your car? You’re probably gonna wind up having a really uncomfortable conversation with your boss about what you get up to on the weekends, ya filthy animal.”

“Clarke!”

As Clarke’s laughter winds down, she reaches out and brushes a strand of hair out of Lexa’s eyes, the smile on her face soft and adoring as she looks at her. She’s quiet for another moment, her eyes traveling from point to point over Lexa’s features before she takes a quick breath and shakes her head. “Okay, so…clothes.” 

“Top half’s still up there…” Lexa sighs, pointing to the front seat. “Pants are…” She waves her hand in the vague direction of the open door. “Probably under the car by now. They fell out at some point, and I just didn’t care.”

“Oh, no…your suit!” Clarke pouts her lip at Lexa, giggling. “I’m so sorry, it’s probably ruined.”

Lexa shrugs. “Trust me, that suit was ruined before we ever got here tonight. There wasn’t going to be any way to salvage it, not after what you did to me at the restaurant.” 

“Worked out pretty well for you, though, didn’t it?” Clarke says with a laugh, leaning down to kiss Lexa’s chest.

“Definitely not complaining, no. You can ruin my suit any day.” 

They smile at each other for a moment. 

“Okay, but…” Clarke begins, laying her head back down on Lexa’s chest. “Let’s get back to this proposal thing. What happened?”

Lexa sighs. “Well, I had this whole thing planned, and then we didn’t end up making it out here because there was a big storm that day, and it was just, like…pouring, you know? So it didn’t happen. And then the next time we came out here, you got a call from your mom and you two got into this huge argument about something, and the mood was all spoiled, and again…it didn’t happen. And it was like, _every time._ Every time, something would come up, I swear. For weeks. It was crazy.”

“So you just gave up?” Clarke hugs her a little tighter. “Did you think the universe was trying to tell you something?”

“I clearly didn’t give up,” Lexa scoffs, giving Clarke a tiny shake. “I just got tired of waiting. Didn’t want to spend another minute not married to you.”

“Listen to you…” Clarke laughs. She lifts up to look at Lexa. “Smooth talker.”

Lexa grins at her. “I think the only thing the universe was trying to tell me was if I wanted to marry you? I’d better get used to not making plans anymore. They sort of have a habit of falling apart when you’re around.” 

“Hey…” Clarke narrows her eyes, pinching Lexa’s side and laughing. 

“I’m serious. You’re tricky. Gotta keep your wits up and be ready for anything if you wanna keep up with Clarke Griffin, you know.”

Nose scrunched up into another pout, Clarke squints at her for a moment before her expression smooths down into a smile. “I’m sorry I spoiled your plans tonight.”

“You should be. I had _moves_ worked out. Maneuvers.”

“Maneuvers, eh?”

“Oh, yeah. It was gonna be an _event._ You missed out.”

Clarke’s eyebrow arches up, her smile still beaming. “Next time?”

“Definitely.” 

A serene smile spreads across Lexa’s face as she idly rubs Clarke’s back, her gaze drifting out the window to look at the strip of sky visible from this angle. “I wanted this to be the place where I asked you because…well, when we used to come here —“

“Still do,” Clarke snorts.

Lexa tilts her chin down to look at her. She’s trying to pull off an offended frown, but she just can’t seem to wipe the grin off her face. She can’t even pretend. “You’re terrible.”

“You love me.”

No need for pretending this time. Lexa simply shrugs and nods like _‘yeah’_ and gives Clarke a soft, quick kiss. She settles back, eyes on the view outside the window again as she continues. “It always felt like we were the only two people who existed in the world when we were here, you know? Just you and me. That’s why I chose it. This was my favorite place back then.”

She hears Clarke make a quiet _‘aww’_ noise as she snuggles into Lexa’s chest a little harder. 

Lexa smiles. “And outside of the fact that I was absolutely head-over-heels in love with you, I knew I wanted to marry you because the idea of that? Like, even if we were the only two people left in the world? It didn’t scare me at all. Not with you. I knew I’d always be okay, as long as you were there with me.”

Clarke repeats the _‘aww’_ noise, louder this time. “Well, now I feel like a shit for teasing you about it. And seriously? Why didn’t you just wait, if it meant that much to you, Lexa? I was going to say yes. I mean, you knew I was going to say yes. Clearly wasn’t going anywhere, so...like, you proposed to me at the _zoo._ The zoo.”

“You love the zoo!”

“I do, and it was wonderful, but…” Clarke raises up to look at her. “I don’t love it as much as this story you just told me. I made you miss out on your big uber-meaningful romantic moment, and that makes me sad. I feel like I’ve totally failed you, here.” 

Lexa laughs and hugs Clarke closer. “You didn’t fail me at all,” she says, reaching out to comb her fingers through Clarke’s hair. The combined effect of ocean breeze and the night they’ve just had have left it the very picture of _‘sex hair’_ by this point, but god, it does not matter. She’s still gorgeous. 

“Because I realized something,” Lexa goes on. It wasn’t just…” She motions to the beach. “…here that made me feel that way. We could be literally anywhere, anywhere at all, and if the world really did stop spinning? As long as you were still standing beside me when it happened? No worries. Bring it on. That’s all I want.” She pauses, her eyes meeting Clarke’s. “So it didn’t really matter where I asked you, because it was never _here_ that was important. It was just _you.”_

Clarke stares at her, her head tilted at that same _what gives you the right?_ angle that started them off on this entire adventure. “That…” She stops, her words tangling up. “…that is the sweetest, _gayest_ thing you’ve ever said to me, Lexa Woods, and holy shit, I love you —” 

She doesn’t quite finish that sentence before she kisses Lexa, so as Clarke leans in, the words _‘so much’_ wind up in Lexa’s mouth, too. 

The kiss goes on until the need to come up for air finally hits, and when they separate at last, they just spend another few moments quietly looking at one another before Lexa glances over Clarke’s shoulder and grins. 

“Sunrise.” She points toward the sliver of light peeking just over the horizon.

Clarke sits up, the sudden rush of cool morning air against their bare skin making both of them jump. “Jesus!” She scrambles to gather the blanket back around them as she peers out the door, eyes on the burgeoning dawn. After a moment, she turns back to Lexa. “Well. Looks like the world’s still spinning today at least, babe.”

Lexa smiles. And somewhere inside, she feels the memory of this entire night and the way Clarke looks at this moment fold up and slide into place, settle into that space in her heart where she keeps all of the best nights, and the best moments, so she’ll always be able to find them. “Looks like it is.”

Clarke leans down to kiss her again, all softness, ending it on a sleepy smile. “Alright, hot stuff. Whadd’ya say we go watch it wake up for a while and then head home, hmm?” She pauses, waving her hand toward the beach. “You know, once we can actually find your pants.” 

_Home,_ Lexa thinks, and the image that instantly swims through her head isn’t their apartment across town, with Clarke’s art on the walls and Lexa’s scratched-up antique bookcases and the picture hanging over their bed of Clarke in Lexa’s arms on the day of their wedding, the word _always_ etched deep into the frame. 

No, it’s none of that. It’s just Clarke. Smiling, and reaching out for her. 

_Home._

Lexa takes a breath. “I’m all yours.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Intensely_ gay. ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think and come shout at me over on Tumblr, if you'd like? I'm the same over there -- slowmorevolution. And I'm always hella happy to hear from you. Thanks again for reading! So grateful for every last one of ya.


End file.
